


Equivalent Exchange

by Sexilicious (jadehakai)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, I'm Going to Hell, Kink Meme, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3012542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadehakai/pseuds/Sexilicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellana Lavellan knew a good thing when she saw it. She always had, and she had always done her best to twist things in her favor whenever possible. *A fill for the Dragon Age Kink Meme*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equivalent Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> Don't judge me, please. I haven't written anything smutty in forever. Original kink meme posting here: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/12149.html?thread=47434869#t47434869

Ellana Lavellan knew a good thing when she saw it. She always had, and she had always done her best to twist things in her favor whenever possible. Coming out on top was the tagline of her life, and she'd been on a winning streak right up until the day she had been sent to the Conclave by her Keeper. That- well, that hadn't exactly been a rousing success at first. But things had started looking up from the moment that a tall, oddly broad-shouldered elf had grabbed her wrist and thrust her hand upwards toward a rift. Maybe she could wrangle a success out of it. Or at least a date? (As she passed out after fighting the fade demon, she was forced to acknowledge her winning streak was broken. Ah well. Try, try again.) 

She started trying again immediately. Wide awake again, she flung herself earnestly into this new world. The Andrastians seemed to think she was this Herald of their dead not-goddess, and if that was what they wanted to believe, so be it. Their beliefs didn't change what had to be done, just how cooperative they would be while a 'knife-ear' led them. It was rough going, but she had good friends at her side. Including Solas. The elder elf had been next to her almost constantly from the beginning, placing himself innocently in her way when there was discussion of a mission, his voice rubbing over her like velvet.

And eventually, she'd kissed him. And he had kissed her. And the kiss led to other places. After they had collected the mages and she'd had to see him die, she had gone to him. Their first time had been... toe-curling. Her lover was always calm and collected, and he tore her apart and put her back together with a clever precision that she only wished she could replicate on him. After all, Solas was a Very Good Thing, and she wanted him to be as happy and content as she was in their relationship. She didn't dare say she loved him, though. Too early in their relationship.

Just like it was too early in the morning to be fretting over her love life. Lana stared down at her breakfast, poking at the fried meat and porridge in her bowl with something akin to despair. The mountains were beautiful. And it was cold out. And it was too beautiful a day to be haunted by the vague sense of discontent that came with the fact that Solas had, again, been a very generous lover. Oh, it wasn't a problem. Except that it was. 

See, Solas was very good at taking her apart and putting her back together, but he hadn't let her do the same for him. Not even once! Oh, he initiated, and in the fade- Oh! The things they did in the Fade- but with the fact he wouldn't let her bring him the same pleasure? It almost felt like he considered what they had a chore of some such, and that simply wouldn't do. 'Keep the Inquisitor happy' was not the same as 'Enjoy a happy, wholesome, and healthy sex life with the woman whose toes you curl twice or thrice a night with your tongue.' Collecting one of the sunshine-yellow circles in her bowl, she felt a vague sense of satisfaction as she slipped it into her mouth, feeling it pop and spill all over her tongue as she bit into it at last.

She swallowed, a look of contemplation coming over her face. Well. Dropping the rest of her breakfast over the side of her balcony that faced away from the Courtyard so that no one would be able to prove she hadn't finished it all- because honestly, the humans must think she had a stomach the side of Iron Bull himself with as much food as they brought her- she traipsed down the stairs, humming a little song as she hopped onto and slid down the banister. 

She wasn't going to be tricky. Nope. Not her. Well, maybe a little. And only because she hoped- and prayed, oh; how she was praying to any and every deity she could think of that might listen- that he would like her idea and her sudden decision to take action as much as she hoped he would.

Solas was in his room, painting. He always seemed to be doing that. The mural grew, little by little, and when he wasn't painting, he was nose deep in those musty-dusty books he loved so much. (He seemed to have a thing for getting nose-deep in- Ellana! Lana, no. Focus.) As she slipped into his room, shutting the door quietly behind her, he didn't look up from his book. Sitting at the desk in the middle of the room, she could hear the murmurs of the people in the library upstairs, hear the lous screeches of the birds a few additional feet above even that. Honestly, Solas would have chosen the worst possible room in Skyhold for romance. 

As she moved up behind him, he turned his head, smiling warmly at her as she slid her arms around his shoulders, nuzzling lightly into the crook of his neck and shoulder. “Vhenan.” he greeted her quietly, and she smiled at him, brushing her nose against his lightly, in lieu of a kiss. “You are come to visit me early. Did you sleep well?” the gleam in his eye told her that he knew she had not slept as soundly as she otherwise might have, and why. 

“I did.” Her breath mingled with his own as she breathed the words against his mouth, and then she pressed her lips to Solas' lightly, slowly. “I came in need of-” she bumped the table, ink spilling, and one of the legs scraped against the stone. Her eyes went wide in panic as a quill hit the floor, and Solas grabbed at the manuscript in front of him, lifting it in a panic. Without thinking, she bent down to get the quill, slipping her hand under the table. 

Inspiration struck like a flash of lightning, and the rest of her slipped under the table as well. “Vhenan?” Solas went to move, to push back his chair to see (presumably) where his lover had vanished to, but she hissed a shhhh to him, and he paused. “What are you doing?” His deep voice was a low rumble, his eyes peering at her as she peeked out from between his legs. Under the table. Still.

Her insides were shaking. Her hands were shaking. What if he told her no? What if someone walked in? What if- What if she never took this opportunity, and so he never took his pleasure from her, and she was left feeling like their relationship was one-sided, with her never giving him an equal share of the pleasure he gave her? “I was thinking,” she murmured to him quietly, and one side of his mouth quirked. 

“A dangerous prospect,” he commented, and she pinched his thigh. His nose crunched up eloquently, and she tried to fix him with a severe glare. “Continue, vhenan.” he composed his face, but humor glinted behind his eyes. So instead of answering verbally, she instead decided it might be best to show him what she meant. The same hand that had so newly pinched the outside of his thigh drifted inwards, caressing the inside gently. Her cheek pressed against the other leg, and she tilted her head to look up at him, watching as the humor drained from his gaze, to be replaced with something she could not define as anything other than- predatory. 

She slid her hand to his groin, feeling his arousal begin to stir. So, not disinterested. “Lavellan.” he hissed her name, swatting lightly at her hand. “We shouldn't.” She blinked at him, and pressed a light, open-mouthed kiss to the front of his pants. He hissed a curse under his breath, groaning as she pulled at one of the strings that helped support his breeches. With her teeth. “Ellana, this is hardly the place. Or the time. Or-” She breathed on him, hot and moist, and he groaned. 

“Say no.” she told him lightly. He didn't, instead glaring down at her. So she proceeded, pulling his semi-hard carefully from its prison. His legs were quivering. Her hands were quivering. 

“This is the worst possible-”

“Tell me no, Solas. I'll stop.” 

He didn't.

She beamed up at him, and he shook his head at her. Still, he didn't say no, didn't pull away, and when she leaned in and lightly licked the warm softness of his penis (Penis. Penis? Ugh, it sounded so clinical to use the word penis) he groaned low in his throat. The heat and scent of him was intoxicating, as was the heady rush of danger that came from the idea of being caught. Sucking his cock. Well, not sucking yet. Just licking. Sucking later.

“I'm blaming you for this if we get caught,” he told her, and both of his hands went above her, to press to the table. There was a soft thump, and- had he reopened the book? She made an indignant noise, and he leaned back, peering at her.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading. And having oral sex performed on me, I thought.” his answer was glib. The elven woman stared at him. He was going to read while she- “Unless you've changed your mind. I think someone would wonder, should they walk by on the walkway, why I am sitting at my desk with my eyes rolled up in my head and panting. With a book, I can at least pretend to be reading should it be necessary.” 

“Should it be necessary.” her voice was incredulous, and rising in pitch. Her cheeks heated, and she opened her mouth to tell him something else that might be necessary, you son of a-, when his hand slid down and gripped her hair tightly. She gasped, felt her belly clench and twist with desire. 

“You can always change your mind,” he told her lightly, “This being a room with such nice acoust-” 

His words were cut off into a growl as she tugged against his hand, his still semi-soft cock sliding into her wet mouth. He let go of her hair, letting the soft tresses fall back down as he gripped the table instead. Still soft, she took him to the base easily, her nose pressing against his groin as she took a slow, measured breath, hands sliding to caress his thighs, push his legs further apart so she could get the right angle. Calloused fingertips slid over the cloth-covered skin, and she stroked his legs affectionately, focusing, for now, on breathing.

Ellana Lavellan knew a good thing when she saw it, and right now, there was something very good happening. Her lover twitched in her mouth, and she pulled up slowly, carefully, letting her hands slide up so she could cup the flesh that was being released from her mouth. For the first time, she wished she had more experience with this. A few glimpses at trashy romance novels and girlish giggling in the darkness didn't prepare her for the desperate reality of wanting to please her partner. And this boldness- She glanced up at him shyly, and blinked at the intensity in his gaze as he watched her. “Ma Vhenan.” he murmured, and then his head tilted, and he peered back at the table. 

He was hardening quickly, and his flesh was now damp from her spittle. It would be a shame if he grew cold, what with her right here to keep him warm. So she dropped her mouth back to him, brushing a feather-light kiss against the side of him, trailing her lips from root to tip before sliding him back into her mouth. He hardened quickly with her mouth on him, swelling until she was forced to pull off of him or risk losing her breath. 

The core of him was firm and hard, and there was a softness of the skin over it, velvet. She brushed her lips over the flesh, caressing it with her hand. Cupped the heavy balls that rested at the base. Her tongue artlessly trailed over the underside of him, teeth teasing the vein until he grunted. She pressed her nose to his balls, then her tongue, drawing a sound from him that she personally would describe as a squeak. (He would tell her later it had been a very manly grunt.) She took them into her mouth carefully, testing the noises he would make if she- he choked, hips thrusting forward as she applied the lightest of pressure. Interesting. 

Cupping them in her hands, however, would be the name of the game. She could hear people moving around upstairs, Dorian's voice as he harassed their librarian was chief among them. The thought of getting caught, here, with Solas in her throat- it sent a shiver through her body and she slid her left hand down his leg, and up her own. Her right hand would have to focus on the rest of him.

Solas was making little growling noises low in his throat, his hips thrusting at the air as she pulled away. She slid the tip of him back into her mouth, her tongue twisting in circles around the head, sinking down him slowly, carefully. It wouldn't do any good if she started choking or coughing. People would get curious at the sounds coming from his room. 

Pressure was easier to apply when he was in her mouth, as she twisted her tongue around the root of him, and up the trunk, flicking over the underside of the head. Pressure was also easier to apply as she slid her finger over that sweet spot between her own legs that sent her nerves singing, and she opened herself up to him as she gasped her pleasure around the thickness of him. Her throat relaxed, able to accept more, able to keep up that rhythm of her head moving up and down, swallowing around him. 

His hips thrust upwards and she groaned around his cock, her right hand stroking over his balls, his inner thigh, up and down his left leg. His legs kept trying to close, and she used her shoulder and hand to keep them apart, keep them open so she wouldn't be squished. (For a mage, he had very strong thighs. It was probably all the walking.) His body was shaking, and his hand reached down to tangle in her hair again. “Ma Vhenan. Ma Sa'lath.” And her name danced over his tongue, bit out like a curse and a prayer, wrapped in on each other, repeated over and over. 

She pulled off him with a wet pop, letting her hand slide up his cock, taking a few deep breaths as the fingers of her left hand rubbed between her own thighs. “You need to be more quiet,” she mocked him hoarsely. “Someone will overhear you, what with these great acoustics.” His shaking hand pressed to her cheek, and she turned her reddened mouth to the calloused flesh, pressing against it first with lips, and then with a slight nip, before turning her attention to what was left in front of her. 

How much longer would he last? How much longer did she want him to last? His scent was musky and heady, the taste of his precum heavy and bitter, like tea that had steeped too long, or that bitter brew that Sera and Bull were so fond of after a late night drinking. He could last forever, but she was ready to drink deep of his sighs, to feel if his hands would tighten in her hair, to feel him shake and soften again. 

Lavellan hummed, bending her head to lap at the thin line of opalescent fluid that was rolling down him, to lightly press her lips to the tip of him and suction carefully before pushing her way back down him again, carefully, feeling the stretch of muscles that were still unaccustomed to the size of him adjust as she worked her way carefully down.

She rubbed against her hand eagerly, aroused by the quiet grunts, by the way he trembled under her with the effort of not giving in and thrusting into her throat with eager abandon, trapped by the pretense of her not being under the table, of her mouth not being on him. Above her, Solas grunted, straining silently, and she laughed low in her throat, vibrating him. She pulled up, as she act made her fight the urge to cough. 

His hands, so firm and greedy, gentled, and he glanced down at her anxiously at the indication of distress, for just a moment, before she drew her teeth over him one last time, and he gave a helpless noise, not able to warn her of what was coming. Warmth jerked over her tongue, sliding down her throat, and he gave a rough spasm, body thrusting itself forward, deeper. She groaned, pulling off him enough to breathe, to try and collect the liquid in her mouth. Her hand stroked the root of him, tugging upwards, encouraging his seed to the tip of him, and out. Into her. 

His balls jerked above her hand, his hand gripped the table, and he closed his eyes. She drank him down, the taste and the sensation of his ejaculation driving her over the edge. Her hips jerked, the world twisted behind her eyes, and it took every ounce of her concentration not to scream around his cock. Ellana refused to pull off him, not while he was still jerking in her mouth, but she lifted off him slowly. Only when his body went soft again did she release him completely, peering up at him from under the table with wicked eyes.

She lifted her hand to her mouth, carefully wiping at a few dribbles of semen that had spilled out of her mouth and bringing her fingers to her lips, quickly licking them clean, not dropping her gaze from his. Solas swallowed, his eyes intense, and then pulled back his seat, jerking her out from under the table and dragging her mouth to his, the fist in her hair giving her little choice but to succumb. His tongue thrust into her mouth, seeking, searching, finding- and he released her just as quickly, tucking himself back into his breeches. 

His cheeks were bright red, as was the top of his head. And at once she realized that he (just maybe) had been just as nervous about this as she was. A startling revelation, and one that made her puff up with glee. She leaned back against the table, tilting her head down at him. Hers. “How fast was that?” she asked him playfully, pushing his reading material to the side so that she could hop up on his table and watch him. 

He made a noncommittal noise, but his head grew redder. His ears were blushing! Ah! His breathing was trembles, his hands were shaking, and while she was still riding the high of her self-induced orgasm, she couldn't bring herself to torture him anymore. “That was about two minutes,” she informed him smugly, and beamed at him. 

Hopping off the table, she whistled cheerily, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “We're off to the Western Approach today,” she told him casually, as though she hadn't come down for anything else. “Can you be ready to leave after lunch?” she let her fingers slide over her swollen mouth one last time, checking for any 'unexpected' bodily fluids, and moved towards the door, opening it and moving through it into the outer walk-through, the one that led to Cullen's offices. Someone else she would have to see before she left. Pausing in her exit, she turned and gave Solas a sly grin. 

“Good morning, by the way.” 

“Vhenan,” his deep voice was shaky, “Emma shem'nan.” he pointed at her, but she wasn't phased by the threat, knowing he wasn't meaning it in any negative way. No, the way his eyes were gleaming at her, this was going to be the kind of revenge she could enjoy, if not encourage.

“That's okay,” she told him coyly. “Your revenge isn't the only thing that was swift.” As the door closed, she heard his snort behind her. 

Ellana Lavellan knew a good thing when she saw it. She always had, and she had always done her best to twist things in her favor whenever possible. Coming out on top was the tagline of her life, and as long as she had Solas at her side, she knew it wouldn't take her long to get that win count back up.


End file.
